So the Federal Trade Commission (US) has released new product endorsement guidelines that specifically contemplate the activities of bloggers. Since the guidelines are administered under the American FTC Act, I’m assuming people like me who don’t live there aren’t caught by the guidelines, but they’re interesting to me nonetheless. From the FTC website:

The revised Guides specify that while decisions will be reached on a case-by-case basis, the post of a blogger who receives cash or in-kind payment to review a product is considered an endorsement. Thus, bloggers who make an endorsement must disclose the material connections they share with the seller of the product or service.

But these guidelines don’t mean crime and punishment for bloggers.

“The FTC does not have the authority to impose a fine for a violation to the FTC act,” says [Richard] Cleland, who heads the FTC’s division of advertising practices. “There is a provision that allows for a proceeding in federal court that allows for imposing of a monetary penalty for violation of trade regulation laws. The guidelines are not trade regulation laws.”

Cleland also said the blogger or endorser would not be fined, but the advertiser would. “We have never brought a case against a consumer endorser and we’ve never brought a case against somebody simply for failure to disclose a material connection,” he said. “Where we have brought cases, there are other issues involved, not only failing to disclose a material connection but also making other misrepresentations about a product, a serious product like a health product or something like that. We have brought those cases but not against the consumer endorser, we have brought those cases against the advertiser that was behind it.

The issue of endorsement hasn’t been relevant to me as a ‘blogger’ (ew) until recently. Books generally come to me through the usual reader’s channels: buying or borrowing. These guidelines are more pertinent for a blogger like Angela, who receives review copies on a weekly basis. But since I started doing radio, I have requested review copies of particular books, and a couple of those have made their way onto the blog because I write about every book I read. However, I only request books I am already planning to read, so it’s not like nefarious publishers are holding a gun to my chest as I review lest I hold forth in a negative fashion about their warrior-vampire-seeks-solace-in-ancient-symbology tomes. Of course, there is the possibility that I’m of a painfully grateful disposition and will say anything nice if only anyone will give me their book for free.

Michael Masnick at Techdirt makes a couple of good points on this: how about the mainstream press and their susceptibility to persuasion? And do readers really need the FTC to play Cerberus?

And why is this focused on bloggers and word-of-mouth marketers? Almost all book and music reviews in the mainstream press involve the books and music being sent for free – and there’s never been any question of impartiality of most of those reviews — but why are they now left out of these rules? Is every blogger who reviews a book going to have to disclose where they got it? What about music? Many music bloggers are sent mp3s by the record labels. Do they need to reveal who sent them stuff? Does that really matter?

The real question, from my standpoint, is whether or not the FTC is really needed here. If someone is constantly blogging positively about stuff they get for free, they put their own credibility at risk, as people realize that the products aren’t actually very good. It seems like the type of situation that sorts itself out. Those who are constantly pushing products for questionable reasons hurt themselves and soon no one trusts them.

As for concrete action, there are already models for bloggers to follow. Kevin from popular book blog KevinfromCanada has, for a long while, accompanied his book reviews with a short caption stating where the book came from. It works for him, as a reader of many new books and culturally significant books like Booker shortlisted ones. WordPress, which Kevin uses, also makes it really easy to elegantly caption images.

I’m in two minds about the guidelines. On the one hand, I’m very interested in the ethics of reviewers. Anyone in a position to communicate influence should be aware of their writing context, including reader perceptions and possible biases. But at the same time, think about your own reading practice: you don’t need a reviewer to tell you if they’re trustworthy or not. It’s pretty easy to assess the relevance of a writer’s opinions to your own consumer activity. As a writer and a reader of reviews, I find it a tedious proposition that readers would need to know that this book, for example, wasn’t a review copy. I have to admit to some irritation, too, at the assumption that since I don’t work for an established media organisation, I can’t be expected to have the same critical standards as someone who does.

Having said that, disclosing the source of a book could be seen as a blogger’s basic responsibility to a reader who might not be familiar with the stainlessness of said blogger’s moral character. I would find it reasonable to adhere to disclosure where it might affect how a reader assesses the content. For example, I thought it important to make clear in my review of Lisa Dempster’s Neon Pilgrim that I received an advance copy of the book, and that I know the author personally. Anyone who didn’t know me could read what I wrote about the book and say, ‘Well, Estelle knows Lisa, so clearly her judgment can’t be trusted.’ It should be noted here that, were any of you privy to the proportion of my time I spend thinking about shoes, you might question my judgment on that basis, too. But the FTC didn’t say anything about that, so that’s too bad for you.

Or, ‘The most fan-girl post ever’.

I think I’m a bit in love with Amber Fresh. It’s partly not my fault; it’s partly the fact that she read me her poetry in a tiny church in Newcastle. Okay, other people were there too. And we didn’t actually meet. But essentially I spent the whole of the next day fretting about whether her book would be on sale at the TINA zine fair; and if not, whether Sean and Liz would be able to get me a copy; and if not, whether Sean and Liz would just hand Amber over to me in some kind of shady back-door deal.

No abduction was necessary in the end; Maddie bought me a copy and I read it pretty much straight away. But it just wasn’t the same. This year, I’ve seen a little bit of spoken word and poetry performance, which is extremely unusual for me. And though I’m not a galloping convert, I am now more alive than ever to the dynamism and alchemy of a poet reading their own work. In the case of Fresh’s informally confessional poetry, the authorial vocal transmutes what, on the page, can read like the simple expression of a naïf’s desires into the most charming seduction you’ve ever heard.

Of course, that’s not to say that the poems can’t be enjoyed on the page. Between You and Me is presented in seven parts, including a prologue, an intermission and an epilogue: an entire catalogue proposing that not just poems in isolation will pass between the poet and the reader. At first, the prologue seems to overturn the ‘me and you’ dichotomy suggested in the collection’s title: ‘there’s a thin little thread / between me and him’. But soon enough, the confessional ear is required again: ‘I had my first time ever being with a poet today’.

The poems in this collection range from short inquisitions:

They’re watching Twin Peaks again
the savages
Don’t they
know people
really do wrap each other in plastic?
(from ‘Savages’)

…to suburban religious adventures:

jesus is my homeboy
but mainly people don’t want to know

one night after i’d
talked to him for a
relatively long time
he sent me on a little
mission into the
city
(from ‘jesus is my homeboy’)

But by far the most significant focus of Fresh’s cathectic poetry is boys:

this boy i know used to work at coles
getting the trolleys and
putting them with the other trolleys
a couple of times i went to visit
him
i tried to look cute
but you know
like, nonchalantly cute
(from ‘A day at the office’)

Some poems are so caught up in a personal vocabulary that they can be alienating but, ultimately, Fresh’s poetry chides the listener to be close; and who can resist a steady flow of secrets?

Welcome to the third instalment of the HELLO INTERN interview series. You’ve already said HELLO INTERN to two of the APA‘s interns. (Well, you’ve said hello to one; the other is actually a publishing assistant…never mind.) Sonja Heijn is carving it up at Scribe Publications‘ Carlton North office; giving editorial lip to the likes of Ben Naparstek and Cate Kennedy, no doubt. That’s Sonja’s desk to the right. It’s where she makes the magic happen. Two screens, people.

In case you’ve just tuned in, HELLO INTERN kicks off with a no-longer-funny/was-it-ever-funny gimmick: bylines ganked from The Poker Star website, in honour of my friend Chris, a contestant on said reality TV show.

Sonja Heijn is…friendly, enthusiastic and tenacious.

Sonja, hello. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Hi, I’m an editorial intern at Scribe. When I’m not editing, reading, or making lists of books that I simply must read, I like making cakes, swimming, and going on long roadtrips. My goals are to make editor, live somewhere I can grow vegetables, and swim a whole lap of backstroke without crashing into the lane divider.

How did your interest in editing develop, and what steps did you take to get involved? Can you talk a little bit about your interest in Scribe specifically?

It developed pretty naturally from being an avid reader as a kid. It’s always been my absolute favourite thing to do, and I’ve always been fascinated by how the English language works. I started a dictionary collection in my teens, but it still didn’t occur to me to make a career out of it until a few years ago, after a succession of different jobs that didn’t quite hit the spot, when I decided it was time for a serious think. I thought about what I enjoyed, what I believed mattered, and what I was good at — and came up with editing. It made perfect sense then and it still does now. So I moved to Melbourne and enrolled in the Diploma of Professional Writing and Editing at RMIT, did prac. placement at Allen & Unwin, and when I saw the internship come up at Scribe, I applied quick smart. I was very interested in Scribe because it’s an independent publishing house and their list is informed by a strong belief that the book itself — especially what it has to say — is (at the very least) as important as its sales potential.

What was the interview process like?

Ah … nerve-wracking! I’d already read everything I could find about Scribe before I sent my application letter, so I knew what a rare chance this was, and I was really just trying not to get my hopes up too high. It was a two-interview process, and the first interview was with the publisher and non-fiction editor and involved an editorial test. The editorial test had 2 components: copyediting and manuscript assessment. I got some very good advice from a friend at Allen & Unwin in regard to the manuscript assessment, and I read and re-read all my grammar and markup notes from the RMIT course for the copyediting test. The first part of the interview confirmed what I had already felt — that I wanted to work at Scribe — and the test went well, so I was over the moon when I got a call back to come in for a second interview. The second interview was with the publisher and a representative from the APA, and we talked about the internship program and what would be expected. After the second interview, I don’t think I breathed properly until I got a call from the publisher saying I’d been successful and how soon could I start …

How is your internship structured?

My internship is quite informal. Scribe is a small publishing house, so there’s lots of opportunities to see how other parts of the business work and how editorial fits into that. Another advantage is that I can always just pop upstairs and ask one the editors or the publisher if I have a question about something. Having that kind of immediate access is invaluable. I started off my internship reading and reporting on submissions, which I love, and then gradually moved on to proofreading and copyediting, getting familiar with house style, and recently got a book of my very own to edit.

Describe the average day at Scribe.

I’m not sure there is an average day! If I’m in the middle of a big editing job, I’ll usually just check my emails and then get stuck into it straight away. If it’s a smaller job, I might spend the first half of the day reading submissions and writing reader’s reports for the publisher, and edit in the afternoon. Usually there’s a convergence on the lunch room at around 12.30, when everyone catches up.

Scribe is renowned for its serious non-fiction and quality fiction. What have been the highlights of working at Scribe for you?

The highlights have been seeing the finished products: seeing a manuscript go through the editing, cover design, sales and marketing, and publicity processes and come out at the other end a new, beautiful book at a book launch. Another highlight, is that, as you say, Scribe is renowned for its serious non-fiction, so I get to read a lot of high-quality submissions on important topics. I’m learning every day, and I feel pretty lucky to have a job where that’s possible.

I’m sure you remember what it was like to wonder about publishing and how on earth it was possible to get in. Do you have any advice for people who are interested in working in the industry?

Well, doing a publishing-specific course worked for me, and I’d recommend it as a way to learn the basics, get an idea of how the industry works, and make contact with people already working in publishing. That last bit is the most important. In my case, prac. placement led to freelance work at Allen & Unwin, which in turn gave me the experience I needed for the internship at Scribe. It is a hard industry to get into, and I think you need to spend a lot of time reading about it and talking about it with people who are already on the inside to give yourself the best chance. Without that kind of contact it’s very difficult. And you need to be persistent. It might take ages to get a foot in the door, but you have to keep trying and let people know that you’re serious about it.

Picture from Newcastle. What? You want book-related content? Surely not. Well, I’m exhausted. So…a plug, totally plagiarised from the EWF newsletter.

The Emerging Writers’ Festival Reader is a new collection that combines highlights of the 2009 festival with general writing information and new creative works across various writing forms.

The Reader is Steven Amsterdam on writers’ workshops, Clem Bastow on freelancing, Jen Breach on writing comics, Mel Campbell on pitching to editors, Kathy Charles on shameless self-promotion, Stephanie Convery on writing Black Saturday, Olivia Davis on fear and writing practices, Lisa Dempster on how much writers earn, Koraly Dimitriadis talks to Christos Tsiolkas, Caroline Hamilton compares writers’ festivals and music festivals, Stu Hatton on his mentorship with Dorothy Porter, Jane Hawtin discusses publishing academic research for a general audience, Andrew Hutchinson recalls the Emerging Writers’ Festival, Tiggy Johnson on parenthood and writing, Krissy Kneen on not writing about sex, Benjamin Law on failure, Angela Meyer reviews books for writers, Jennifer Mills on the politics of publishing and engaging with readers, Anthony Noack on good grammar, John Pace on re-drafting your screenplay, Ryan Paine on the role of the critic, Ben Pobjie on writing comedy, Robert Reid on the role of the contemporary playwright, Aden Rolfe on the emergentsia, Jenny Sinclair on the landscape of her book research, Chris Summers talks to Lally Katz about theatre writing, Mia Timpano on how to cultivate the ultimate author profile photo, Estelle Tang on Christopher Currie and blogging fiction, Simmone Michelle-Wells pens a letter to her younger self, Cameron White reviews alternatives to Microsoft Word.

I travel a lot, but I am crap at travel stories. You can ask anyone who knows me. I have done some of the most fun things in the world, and I can still make them sound boring. Wells Tower asked me what Dakar was like, and I said, ‘There are a lot of fancy ice-cream places’. It’s unfair that I get to travel, actually. They should only ever send born raconteurs overseas. But such is life.

Lisa Dempster, on the other hand, is a great travel writer. (She’s also a publisher, blogger and good value lady.) We invited her to talk about Neon Pilgrim on Textual Fantasies a few weeks back, and her publisher, Emily Clark from Aduki, sent us a copy as a thank you. No: thank you! It was exactly what I wanted to read at the exact time that I received it: a book with a heart as big as its endeavour.

I figure that the sweet spot in travel writing is enabling a reader to share the joy and pain of your journey, and Neon Pilgrim affords ample scope to partake in Lisa’s experience. Lisa lived in Japan as a schoolgirl, on the island of Shikoku, and promised herself that one day she would undertake the island’s 88 Temple pilgrimage, the henro michi. The memory of this promise resurfaced at a time when she needed it very much; a couple of years ago Lisa was depressed, withdrawn and unmotivated. One of those dark days, however, she came across a tale in a library book about a suicidal woman who walked herself well on the pilgrimage. It became very clear to Lisa what her next step would be.

I know Lisa well enough to know that she is honest, principled and passionate — all things that characterise Neon Pilgrim, her account of the 1200 kilometre pilgrimage. For those of you who might think that a journey designed to venerate an enlightened monk might be quite a nice form of low-impact exercise — it’s not. It sounds freaking hard. Not only was the physical effort of hiking mountains in summer so overwhelming that Lisa couldn’t keep her food down for the first ten days, but the sheer size of the enterprise — the distance, the loneliness, the self-intimacy — was enough to make her rethink her plans more than once. In addition, Lisa was undertaking the henro michi nojoku, or sleeping rough.

But the other side of such harshness and difficulty is, of course, grace. On her trek, Lisa was inspired by the spirit and ideals of Kōbō Daishi, the buddhist monk who achieved enlightenment on the track now followed by 150,000 people a year. The Daishi was what I think they call ‘ahead of his time’: a feminist, anti-class, pro-equality crusader. Above all, I was incredibly moved by the Shikoku natives’ generosity to pilgrims through the custom of settai, or gift giving. Settai is a way for those who haven’t the health, time or financial support to go on pilgrimage themselves; and by gifting a pilgrim with food, drink, accommodation (or even chiropractic services, as Lisa discovered), the giver is assisting the Daishi himself.

There were so many things I loved about this book. Having been to Japan, it was such a tonic to re-encounter my favourite things about it through someone else’s words; I was wretched for Lisa’s descriptions of Japanese food, from flame-grilled mochi (which I don’t even usually like) to the udon of the Sanuki province, which is so soft and silky you can swallow it without chewing. Also, while reading about Lisa’s interactions with her fellow pilgrims and Shikoku’s residents, my heart swelled to such a size that I didn’t know quite where to put it. Absolutely crowning my enjoyment of Neon Pilgrim, though, was that it stripped away my belief that you can’t still have an adventure in these superconnected and dangerous times. You can; it’s possible; how sublime that knowledge is.

Once Spring has clambered over the fence in Australia, writers from all over the country plot their journeys to Newcastle to taste the ginger beer and ardour at the National Young Writers’ Festival. This year, wordy youngsters wax Novocastrian from 1-5 October. I’m there right now, in fact, as are Anna Krien, Lawrence Leung and Lisa Dempster. Maybe one of them can lend me five bucks, I’m starving.

Anna Krien: another one of those people God put on the planet to give you a kick up the arse. Anna writes journalism, essays, fiction and poetry, and she has one of the best artist profile pictures I’ve ever seen. At least she is also very sweet. (Photo from here.)

Journalistic ethics: are people born with them, or do you have to slog away for years to figure them out?

I think you slog away at developing a sense of right and wrong from the day you’re born til the day you die. I imagine people on their deathbed have those ‘oops’ moments where they realise they got something wrong and their whole value system has to shift in their last 5 minutes… In journalism, ethics are trickier to navigate because reporters are often working against the clock and have intense deadlines, so they tend to be very callous with their subjects. Many stories written on the go like that end up using cliches, stereotypes and predictable points of conflict, because it’s an easy shortcut into a story. That said, there are also many amazing journalists who turn out an insightful story on a tight deadline. I am not one of those. I’m a ‘slow’ journalist for a few reasons: I don’t like rushing people, I like to develop trust and rapport with my subject and I don’t like making statements or claims without thoroughly investigating them first. Those are my ethical reasons – and the other side of that reality is I am just plain slow. It takes me a while to get my head around issues and systems and so on.

How does a person with a self-confessed ‘unremarkable brain’ nevertheless produce fine examples of journalism, essays, fiction and poetry?

Ha! How do I answer that? I suppose scientifically an unremarkable brain is a good thing and only a person of literature would be offended by such a diagnosis. Medical terms and literature are definitely at odds with one another. It took me forever to understand that a positive medical result is not always a good thing!

What would you say to your eleven-year-old aspiring writer self?

Don’t be so morbid! Stop cutting yourself up! Why are you obsessed with the holocaust? Stop scumming money at the school tuck-shop! Don’t steal the wine from the chapel – you’re going to GET CAUGHT! Stop lying! Oh – the things I would say if I could have a conversation with the 11-year old me. I was the most inconsistent little thing. Loud as a banshee, shy, buck teeth that looked like Scrabble pieces, and was horribly hungry, hence the lurking at the tuck-shop which in hindsight was because I grew 13 centimetres that year and my feet grew first, so I had these huge flapping feet. But if anything I would be hard pressed to even find my ‘writer self’ – I read and wrote lots but never considered it as something I could ‘be’. I wasn’t aspiring to be anything. It was just something I did. Same way some kids did art and others did science. Everyone had their own list of classes to wag and not to wag. To be honest, I think if I tried to speak to the eleven-year old me, she wouldn’t listen to me.

Lawrence Leung was fulfilling his childhood dreams on television screens across Australia earlier this year, and now he will be, um, fulfilling yours? Never mind. I know that’s impossible, because I’m not married to Jonathan Taylor Thomas. (Photo via.)

Hi Lawrence. I hear you’re appearing on the NYWF ‘Funny Business’ panel. So you think you’re pretty funny, do you?
You run a blog called 3000 BOOKS. So you think you can read, do you?

Oww, oh, you hurt me.
Comedy is extremely subjective. When people laugh, I’m a comic. When they don’t, I’m a spoken word performance artist. I will try my best on the NYWF panel to look like I know what I’m talking about, then skilfully handball the questions to the more talented Chaser writer Dominic Knight and satirist Courteney Hocking.

Has it occurred to you that maybe your parents are funnier than you are?
They write all my jokes.

Is it hard to gauge whether you’re being adequately hilarious when you’re filming, as opposed to performing in front of a crowd?
Yes, it’s very difficult. A live audience will give you immediate feedback, but a camera obviously cannot. On the other hand a camera won’t heckle or throw fruit at you. So, swings and roundabouts.

What are you working on at the moment?
Currently, I am doing a live show at the Brisbane Festival called Sucker.

Will you dance with me at the Great Gatsby party?
No one puts Baby in a corner.

Lisa Dempster is good value in every way, shape and form. A publisher, writer, blogger and now Wriron Chef, she’s sticking it to the artistic industries in the time-honoured independent tradition. Lisa also does a round-up of NYWF every year: 2007 and 2008. (Photo via.)

So, the National Young Writers’ Festival is going to be ‘Festival of Lisa: Part Newcastle’: not only are you launching your book, Neon Pilgrim, but you’re also appearing in four other events as well.

I know, with the events I’m in and those I want to see, I’ve got a pretty full dance card. The launch of Neon Pilgrim is obviously exciting, though I’m also nervous about my book finally being out there! But the Launch Pad concept is a fun one; I’m hoping to get to it on the other days too.

I’m looking forward to the panels I’m on – especially the two roundtables: Publishing how-to and Distro how-to. Roundtables are great when there’s a lot of interaction – I’m going into those sessions hoping to get some new ideas and inspiration. I’m also on a travel writing panel, Life in a Lonely Planet, with some interesting panellists (I’ll be taking notes!)

The event I’m most anticipating is Wriron Chef, which is a full Iron-Chef-Masterchef-style cook off between me and two other emerging food-minded writers, Benjamin Law and Rosie Pham. There’s so much scope for things to go vastly wrong, but I’m assured the event will be a ‘gleeful riot’ of foodie joy. Whatever happens I’m sure it will be entertaining. And the audience get to taste-test and judge us. Gulp.

Of course, the best thing about TINA is usually the stuff that is unscheduled and unprogrammed. Last year I went to a midnight zine launch, which was a highlight. I can’t wait for more stuff like that this year too… and generally just hanging out with friends and soaking up some rays.

Can vegans find good food in Newcastle?

Absolutely! Darby Street is Newcastle’s restaurant strip and vegos gravitate towards the health food cafe Natural Tucker for enormous and sustaining salads, pies, tempeh wraps and vegie burgers. The local Hare Krisna group set up each year outside the zine fair, serving cheap curry and rice, and Food Not Bombs often makes an appearance too.

I always find myself eating on the run during TINA – too much to do to stop and eat! – but this year I’m planning on uncovering some more of Newcastle’s vegan food. Pip from The Fairest Feed used to be a Novocastrian and has a few tips about where to eat and get good soy coffees on her blog. In particular, I’m hoping I don’t get too distracted to check out Goldberg’s, NOSH and Roladoor cafes.

This isn’t your first NYWF, is it? What was your first NYWF experience like?

This is my third trip. I was kind of nervous going up there the first time actually. I was launching The Sex Mook and I facilitating two panels. But it was awesome, The Sex Mook was really well-received and I had a fantastic time going to panels, drinking, doing mook launches, running a stall at the zine fair, lying in the park enjoying the sunshine, making out with someone I shouldn’t have… the usual TINA stuff. I was blown away by the people I met too – that first year, I made friends with Clementine Ford, Rhys McDonald, Christopher Currie and loads of other people who I really like and admire. TINA is good like that.

Oh my god. Is that…Benjamin Law, Christopher Currie and Dion Kagan? Do I look okay? I feel nervous. What if they don’t like my poetry? Maybe I should buy them a ginger beer at the National Young Writers’ Festival. I’m pretty sure that’s how you make friends — buy them stuff? Maybe I should buy them copies of the new Dan Brown book. Or do you think they already have it? Shit.

Benjamin Law is another one of those crafty Brisbane critters. If you read The Monthly, The Big Issue or frankie, then you probably know who he is. Back in 2007, Ben did an interview with Tori Amos where he put her own song titles to her instead of questions. I stole his idea. (Photo via.)

‘Facing the Dole with Dignity’

As a young writer, government welfare is both your enemy and your friend. In some ways you need it (rent, bills, basic sanitation) and in other ways, it will hurt you (bureacracy, humiliation, forgetting you exist). It’s basically an abusive lover. You’ll keep coming back for more, and you can’t ever leave, because it holds all the money.

If you miss a week filling out the relevant forms, you’re back to cooking raw vegan food without gas. So funnily enough, at the festival this year, I’m involved in an event called “Wriron Chef”, where three writers —including myself — will be going to go head-to-head in an Iron Chef/MasterChef challenge. Rumour has it that the only heating implement we’ll have on hand is a kettle. Everything that can’t be steeped in hot water will have to be raw. I think it’s symbolic and representative of our artistic and financial backgrounds, really.

‘A Gay Old Time’

This is exactly what you’ll have if you come to the National Young Writers Festival. Don’t be put off by mainstream literary festivals where it’s polite, civilised and predominantly caters to over-50s. Come to a festival where young people come onto their panels half-inebriated and still manage to talk politics over the screaming of hecklers. Now that’s culture, folks.

‘Books I Should Have Read By Now’

Don’t come to NYWF worrying whether you’ve read the right books or not. Folks who talk at the festival vary between foreign correspondents with degrees in politics, to people who’ve made zines inspired by Sweet Valley High.

‘A Long Way from Rome’

Newcastle is exactly 16,307 kilometres from Rome. There’s a fun fact.

Christopher Currie is a furious horse, vicious cycle and fierce fictionist. He’s your new favourite novelist (only you don’t know it yet). I originally put this picture up as a joke. But then I was struck by the noble velocity of this warm-blooded mammal — though it bears very little resemblance to Chris at all — and there we have it. (Photo via.)

Have you been to NYWF before? What do newcomers have to look forward to?

I have been twice. Once when I was a thoroughly scared 16 year-old, and the second time two years ago. The highlight of my first visit was the potential awesomeness of irreverant slogan-based T-shirts and the knowledge that I could survive on couscous and ginger beer for an entire long weekend. My second trip taught me that the next wave of Australian creative artists are as good as anywhere you’ll find in the world.

I’ll be teaching people how to write real quick (Krazy Currie’s Speed-Writing Workshop), opening your eyes to the new generation of literary journals (Sweet Staple High), showing you possibly the world’s worst book covers (BOOKFAIL), and giving you the skinny on how to turn small-time success into your magnum opus (Writing the BIG One).

A white dress, which I will weigh down like a silver idol against the singing breeze of the fans.

I’m scared of Dion Kagan. He’s the editor’s editor: professional, friendly, thoughtful; one part carrot, one part stick. I edged as close to him as I could bear, and asked him what he was up to at NYWF. (Photo via.)

Do you, Dion Kagan, feel irritated, as I do, that the National Young Writers’ Festival is not called the National Young Extremely Good-looking Editors’ Festival?

I do have my moments, but I’m gradually learning that part of the editor’s role is to cultivate a certain degree of humility. Sure, I’m sexy, I’m cute, I’m popular to boot, but I’m not gonna write a song about it.

I do think the work of editors is, like writing, a form or artistry, particularly in the curatorial and commissioning roles. But it’s an art that mostly occurs behind-the-scenes, like directing or dramaturgy. When its time for the show to go on, the editor should take a seat in the darkest, most anonymous corner of the auditorium and try to appraise their work from a critical distance. But of course, you’re still entitled to go out and get ridiculously pissed afterwards.

On a more personal note, I would actually hate to go to a festival of exclusively extremely good-looking people. Not that I have a problem with good-looking people. Some of my friends are extremely good-looking.

So you’ll be wearing your publisher/editor hat? What wisdom have you for the masses?

Indeed I will be, though I’ll also be dishing out advice to struggling artists in relationships with other struggling artists, and facilitating a panel on queer literature.

As an editor, I’ve mostly worked mostly in small, independent publishing contexts, and the general vibe between editors and writers in that world is extremely positive and friendly. It can also be quite casual, and what can get a little tricky at times are the moments when casual descends into unprofessional. I’m not talking about proof reading emails or addressing them ‘dear Sir Dr Editor Dion Kagan’, just the fundamentals: sticking to your deadline (unless you’ve negotiated a flexible one), signing and sending your copyright on time and delivering work that is publishable. When you agree to produce a piece of writing for a publication, no matter how small, there’s a formality to that agreement, and you need to come up with the goods. Being talented and brilliant and extremely good-looking are all wonderful things. But being reliable is equally crucial.

Think of Sylvia and Ted, Henry and June, Gwyneth and Chris: isn’t going out with another creative person just super?

Oh how it is! Unless you’re both neurotic, penniless, depressed and prone to self-medicating. I’m all of those things at times, but in my better moments, I can be supportive, understanding, and, I hope, an inspiration to my partner. He’s a playwright and works in the theatre. I used to think that world was all ideas and inspiration and glamorous opening nights, and I still do, to some extent. But I’ve also realised that it involves shitloads of drudgery and often thankless and extremely hard work.

I know it sounds naff, but it can be so goddamn hard to get along in the creative universe, so I do think it helps to be in a relationship with someone who gets the difficulties and the unconventionalities of the lifestyle, whether they’re an artist or not.